


Even as a Dream

by vaenire



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (he's just more minor so i didnt put him under character tag), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Cassian Andor - Freeform, Character Death, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, M/M, bodhi is gay and good, major character death x3, suicidal behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:52:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/vaenire
Summary: Baze was there when Chirrut awoke in the infirmary on Yavin IV. He had needed time to recover from the burns along his back from the explosions, and the various cuts and bruises he had sustained in the fight on Scarif. Baze watched over him the entire time.A monitor beside his bed alerted the others that he was conscious. A nurse responded, explaining where he was preventing him from sitting up.“Sir, you’re still healing from your wounds,” he explained. “Don’t move too quickly.”In a moment, Jyn was beside the nurse, reassuring Chirrut with a gentle hand. Baze had seen her come and go in the days that followed the Scarif battle; he was pleased to see her limp lessen until it was nearly undetectable.“Where’s Baze?” Chirrut asked her.OREveryone lives but Baze AU, from Baze's perspective





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream." -Euripides

Baze was there when Chirrut awoke in the infirmary on Yavin IV. He had needed time to recover from the burns along his back from the explosions, and the various cuts and bruises he had sustained in the fight on Scarif. Baze watched over him the entire time.

A monitor beside his bed alerted the others that he was conscious. A nurse responded, explaining where he was preventing him from sitting up.

“Sir, you’re still healing from your wounds,” he explained. “Don’t move too quickly.”

In a moment, Jyn was beside the nurse, reassuring Chirrut with a gentle hand. Baze had seen her come and go in the days that followed the Scarif battle; he was pleased to see her limp lessen until it was nearly undetectable.

“Where’s Baze?” Chirrut asked her.

A look passed between Jyn and the nurse. Silently, the nurse retreated to the other room. Jyn sat on the edge of the infirmary bed, and reached for Chirrut’s hand laying at his side.

“Where is he?” Chirrut asked, more hushed.

“He didn’t make it, Chirrut,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Chirrut didn’t move for a long moment, staring at a spot he couldn’t see on Jyn’s shoulder, his breathing shallow but even. He swallowed, nodded, looked away from her.

“He protected you,” she said. Baze could see how she ran her thumb in a soothing circle on the back of Chirrut’s hand.

Chirrut took a long, slow breath. “Could I,” he began. He exhaled slowly. “Could I have a moment, Jyn?”

“Of course.” She got up to leave, and remember something last second. “Bodhi wants to see you, when you’re ready.”

Chirrut nodded weakly as the full effect of his burn wounds seemed to catch up with him. She left the room.

Chirrut stared up at the ceiling sightlessly. Baze watched his face carefully, aching to comfort him, to let him know that he was with him and he was okay.

Chirrut’s lips tightened, first. His brow knit close, and he shut his eyes. The lines between his brows and at the corners of his eyes deepened, his nose scrunching up. His shoulders concaved slightly, surely aggravating the healing burns on the tops of his arms and his upper back.

When Baze died, it had only been painful for a moment. He laid eyes on Chirrut one last time and his vision was swallowed by the yellow of the Death Trooper’s grenade.

Slowly, the yellow had ebbed into a soft gray, like he was laying on the ground staring up at an approaching storm cloud on Jedha. He felt warm, content, perfectly at peace. He felt himself easing back, into the gray. Letting go of his life and his identity.

_Chirrut_ , he had thought quite suddenly, jerking back into sentience. He looked around the amorphous gray surrounding him (was ‘look’ accurate, anymore, now that he didn’t have a body?) but Chirrut was nowhere to be found.

Like being pulled up and out of a pool of water, Baze found his consciousness inserted back into the living world, in this room in the infirmary in the Rebel base on Yavin IV.

No one could see him, no one could hear him when he tried to speak. At one point, when a nurse came in to redress Chirrut’s wounds, Baze willed himself to touch the nurse. She had turned, looking up expectantly to find no one standing behind her. She cocked her head and turned back to her work. That small gesture had taken a lot of Baze’s energy, and he lost the connection to the room for a period. It felt like falling asleep, but when he woke again, he could not tell how much time had passed.

So he stayed in the corner of the room, waiting for Chirrut to wake.

But now, Chirrut lay silently working through his grief. Even if it took Baze a while to come back from the gray, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to comfort him.

Baze focused, willing his hand to be felt by Chirrut as he cupped his cheek. _It’s okay_ , he hoped Chirrut could understand. _I’m okay. I’m here_.

The edges of Baze’s vision softened out, turning gray, but he saw Chirrut’s shock, heard his gasp. Chirrut’s hand came up to touch where Baze had. Finding nothing, his face crumpled again, and he breathed a soft sob.

Baze’s vision was consumed by the gray.

- 

When Baze returned, they were no longer in the infirmary. Instead, he found a dormitory room with a single cot, on which Chirrut sat. Beside him, his robes were neatly cleaned and folded. Instead, he wore some clothes that the rebels spared him. Yavinese climate did not work with Jedhan clothing, after all.

Chirrut seemed small without his robes.

A knock came on the door. Chirrut straightened where he sat, cleared his throat and smiled. “Come in.”

The door _swooshed_ open, revealing Bodhi. He was cleaned up from when Baze had last seen him, his hair neatly pulled back and his dirty Imperial uniform replaced with a clean rebel vest and new black cargo pants.

“Bodhi,” Chirrut greeted him, even as Bodhi stood, nervous and silent in the doorway. “Come in. I would offer you a seat but I’m afraid I only have my cot.” Chirrut patted the foot of it.

Bodhi smiled, sitting beside him.

“Jyn had told me you wished to see me the other day.”

Bodhi nodded, to himself more than anything. “I wanted to talk to you before Cassian did. Has he been by?”

Chirrut knit his eyebrows together in a question, tilting his head so Bodhi could see him more clearly. “No, why?”

“He’s going to ask you if you want to join the rebels or be relocated somewhere else. Since Jedha is…” Bodhi trailed off.

Chirrut nodded solemnly. “And why did you want to talk to me first?”

Bodhi took a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to contact my family. I don’t know where they were when…” he trailed off again. He was quiet for a time, and Chirrut didn’t push. “You’re the only other Jedhan I know who survived.”

Bodhi looked down at his hands. He wanted to say more, Baze could tell. His hands twitched nervously.  

“What are you going to do?” Chirrut asked at long last. Bodhi looked up at him, surprised by the question.

“I don’t have anything else other than the Rebellion now. Jyn is staying, too. I think we might continue as Rogue One. Cassian knows more.”

Chirrut hummed. “What do you want me to do?”

“I…” Bodhi considered it. “I would like you to stay with us.” Bodhi bit his lip and looked at his hands again. “I understand if you don’t want to. That’s fine. I was just thinking—“

Chirrut cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. Bodhi just had time to look up at him before Chirrut slung his arm over his shoulders and pulled him in, hugging him. Slowly, Bodhi wrapped his arms around Chirrut’s frame tightly, ducking his head against Chirrut’s shoulder.

- 

Baze doesn’t witness the conversation, but can figure out that Chirrut chose to stay with the Rebellion. His wardrobe is stocked with his old Jedha robes, a khaki uniform and cargo pants, utilitarian jacket and plain shirts.

His hair has grown out. He still shaves his face, and he keeps his hair trimmed, but it’s longer than he’d ever allowed it to grow before.

At night, he’s often too tired to carry out his meditation routines. He washes quickly, changes into sleep clothing and retires.

When he does meditate, however, Baze can feel his consciousness more strongly. He sits beside Chirrut on the narrow cot, reminiscent of their times in the temple’s dormitory as children.

So much has changed since then.

Baze had tried to reach out to Chirrut in the first weeks; to touch his hand, try speaking to him—but Chirrut didn’t know it was actually him. His faith was shaken. He thought he was hallucinating, or imagining things and it would distress him. One morning, as Chirrut bent over on his cot to slip on his shoes, Baze sat beside him and touched his back.

Chirrut sat up, fast and straight, and his hand shot out to touch the bed where Baze’s presence was.

_I’m here_. Baze hoped he could hear. _It’s me_.

When his hand found nothing, Chirrut’s shoulder slouched. He took a deep breath, regulating himself. Another deep breath, and he bit his lip. A third deep breath. It took Chirrut many minutes to regain his composure.

 -

Baze did not witness the destruction of the Death Star. He had been in the cold gray haze, regaining his energy. He could feel Chirrut, though. His joy.

He could feel him praying. Baze couldn’t see him, couldn’t reach him through the fog. But he could hear Chirrut praying for his soul.

 -

Sometimes, Baze found himself in the ship as Rogue One was deployed on a mission. Often Cassian and Kaytoo were in the cockpit, Jyn sitting across from Bodhi and Chirrut. Other times Bodhi would take Cassian’s place, who would sit beside Jyn.

It felt most natural to see in the back, where he had once sat before, and observe the others.

He observed the way that Bodhi and Chirrut sat close, talking softly.

This time, Baze gathered that they were on their way back to the base after an assignment. Cassian was flying, and Kaytoo was going through a first aid kit for something to treat the gash on Chirrut’s head.  Jyn had a wet rag which she applied to his face, trying to clean off the blood that had dried on his brow.

“You’re hurt, too,” Chirrut said. He grabbed her wrist and felt along her arm with his other hand until he found the rip on the inside of her jacket’s arm. “Jyn, this is worse much worse.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Chirrut gave her a sideways smile. “I’m not worried about you, but if you don’t tend to that we may soon have something to worry about.”

“I’lll take care of it, let me finish cleaning yours first.”

Chirrut chuckled, allowing her to dab at his dried blood again. “You remind me of a young man I once knew. Kaytoo, as soon as you have me bandaged up, go get Cassian to look over this,” he said, gesturing to the bloody rip in Jyn’s clothes.

Jyn scoffed.

“We have to look out for each other, now, _lypiha_ ,” Chirrut said with a soft smile.

A feeling like adrenaline washed over Baze, sapping his energy at the sound of that word. His vision grayed out, and he was gone.

 - 

_The city of Nalhipa was about two hundred klicks south of NiJedha, and while it wasn’t_ hotter _than NiJedha, the sun was much harsher there._

_Baze’s robes had a hood, which sheltered him from the beating sun; Chirrut wore only his everyday monk clothing, which left him exposed without a hood. He had wrapped his neck scarf around his head, but the sun had shined through and burned the side of his neck quite badly._

_“Idiot,” Baze had scolded him. Baze had been given a stipend to cover their food and shelter for their trip, and now he’d spent a portion on it on burn ointment and a cap. He knew Chirrut could sense how displeased he was._

_Chirrut put his hand out for the vial of ointment, but Baze clicked his tongue._

_“No, idiot, I’ll put it on you. Just lay down on your side.”_

_Chirrut lifted his eyebrows, but complied. As Baze unscrewed the vial and poured some on his fingertips, Chirrut pulled the shoulder of his tunic away from his burnt neck so Baze had easier access to the affected area._

_Baze tried to keep his touch gentle as he spread the oil. He was upset, yes, but it wasn’t Chirrut’s fault that this happened. Yes, it was foolish to wear such exposed clothes in the Nalhipa district, but Baze had been here before whereas Chirrut had never strayed too far from NiJedha._

_Baze blew on the oil lightly to help it dry faster. He ignored how it made Chirrut shiver. He grunted, signaling that Chirrut could sit up again._

_“Thank you,” Chirrut said quietly._

_Baze grunted again, shrugging off his thanks. “Whether we like it or not, we’re lyhipan now.”_

_Chirrut beamed._


	2. Chapter 2

It’s hard to keep track of time when he’s constantly being pulled back into the cold gray void for indeterminate amounts of time, but Baze thinks it’s been about a year since Scarif.

In that time, Baze has seen the Rogue One crew go through challenges and face incredible odds on their missions.

This was, by far, the worst.

They had been ambushed.

They were on the block just outside the launch pad where Bodhi was with the ship. Chirrut, for some reason, had daddled behind; the team had been lulled into a false sense of security when an ISB team had sprung on them.

Cassian and Jyn tucked into an alcove not far from the entrance to the bay, but Chirrut was caught unaware, unable to find a spot to hide quick enough. He was shot in the thigh. He dragged himself behind some crates, clutching his leg.

Through Chirrut’s singed clothes and flesh, Baze could see the white of bone. Oh, fuck.

Chirrut pulled off his jacket, tying it over the wound and applying as much pressure as he could. Blood seeped through the leather of his jacket.

The Stormtroopers were distracted by the return fire from Jyn and Cassian, leaving Chirrut behind.

Jyn and Cassian needed to find him and get him to safety or Chirrut may not leave here.

Through his pained grimace, Chirrut smiled. “Baze.”

 _Hell no_. Baze knew that leaving Chirrut’s side sapped his energy—for some reason he was well and truly anchored to Chirrut, even in the afterlife—but he needed to reach Jyn and the others. He needed to make sure they found Chirrut and found him fast.

It’s easy to track a firefight.

Cassian and Jyn were both shielding themselves behind some crates in the bay, returning fire when they could.

“Start it up, Bodhi! We need to get out of here.” Cassian shouted toward the open door of their escape ride.

“Where’s Chirrut?” Jyn said.

“We have to go,” Cassian said, grabbed her hand and pointing toward the ship. There were fifteen feet between them and the opening, and they’d have to run and try to avoid blasts.

“ _Where’s Chirrut?_ ” Jyn repeated.

Baze didn’t know how to interact with her. He tried touching her hand, or her hair, but she didn’t react. When she moved to shoot at the troopers, Baze quickly slid her blaster barrel to one side so it was aimed more accurately.

Huh, so he can move objects easier. Jyn, seeing her shots land on trooper after trooper, gained confidence.

“We have to find Chirrut,” she demanded to Cassian as she stood, taking out the last trooper as she could aim more easily when she wasn’t hiding.

Cassian glanced between the safety of the ship and the unknown street beyond the hangar doors. Jyn threw herself into a sprint toward the doors, and so Cassian reluctantly followed.

She came to a halt when she reached the silent street. The residents had taken shelter inside, the storefronts closing up at the first sign of Stormtroopers.

Baze found himself over Chirrut again, who was biting his lip and keeping quite silent, despite hearing Jyn and Cassian calling out to him.

 _This idiot wants to die_.

Baze returned to Jyn’s side, desperately trying to let her sense him. The kyber crystal hanging around her neck _ting_ ed. Jyn scrunched her nose, pulling the necklace from where it was tucked under her clothes. Baze lifted it carefully, pointing the tip in Chirrut’s direction.

Jyn’s eyes were wide, dumbstruck by what she was seeing. Baze worried she would be too shocked to understand. But her head whipped up in the direction he pointed her, and she sprinted to the alcove, now realizing it was a good spot for Chirrut to hide.

Cassian on her heels, she sprinted to the alcove.

“ _Chirrut_ ,” she said, gasping, beckoning Cassian to come faster.

Cassian’s jaw was tense as he took in Chirrut’s injuries. He glanced around the empty streets.

“They’ll be back soon; we have to move _now_.”

Chirrut was delirious with pain and blood loss as they figured out how to move him back to the ship. Baze, perhaps selfishly, put his hands on Chirrut’s face; he wasn’t sure if he was trying to calm Chirrut or himself. 

-

Again, the infirmary room.

Jyn was sitting in a chair at Chirrut’s bed side. Chirrut had been awaken on and off for the past two days. Now, he seemed rather coherent.

“Cassian and I decided something while you were asleep.”

Chirrut smiled. His thigh was fractured and he’d had to have a huge blood transfusion, but the bacta on his thigh and other drugs in his system had him feeling alright.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we’re keeping you a lot closer on missions. No lollygagging along behind us anymore.”

Chirrut laughed a small, unnatural laugh.

“What’s so funny? You really scared us this time.”

Chirrut shrugged. “I don’t mind much.” His voice was faded a bit. The drugs definitely took an edge off of Chirrut’s speech.

“What don’t you mind?” Jyn said. She was confused by him.

“Either way. Dying or not.” Chirrut shrugged.

Jyn’s eyes widened for only a moment before she scooted her chair up closer to Chirrut’s side.

“You can’t think that way,” she chided him softly, grabbing his hand. “Baze wouldn’t like it.”

Chirrut screwed up his brows like he was confused; Baze knew this was for show. “Jyn, he’s dead.”

-

Chirrut wasn’t sent on missions until he could walk somewhat normally again. The other three, as their crew was down a member, were sent on more individualized missions for the time being—Bodhi transported goods between bases, Cassian went on information gathering trips to Mid Rim.

However, when they were on-base, they made it a priority to spend time with Chirrut in his room. Baze wondered if Jyn hadn’t told them about what Chirrut said in the infirmary that day.

Cassian sat against the wall of Chirrut’s room, reading on his datapad. Jyn sat at the foot of his bed, just looking about.

“Bodhi’s back today,” she said to Chirrut. He sat with his good leg tucked under the other at the head of the bed.

“Bodhi’s back right now, actually,” Cassian said. He must have just gotten a message on his pad.

Not ten minutes passed until Bodhi knocked on his door. Jyn popped up to open it for him. Bodhi came in, removing his flight jacket and folding it over his arm.

“Can I sit by you?” Bodhi asked Chirrut, whose eyes were still closed as if in meditation. Chirrut smiled and nodded. “Are you meditating or just resting?”

“Just resting.” He blinked his eyes open to look at Bodhi, expecting him to continue.

“I just wanted to let you know. Organa stopped me as I was making my way here. She was wondering if I wanted to give input for a program or a compilation of survivors of various planets affected by the war.” Bodhi said it quickly so he could keep his tone light. “I told her to ask _debva’s_ opinion.”

Baze was taken by surprise by that term of affection.

Chirrut smiled and turned to Bodhi. “ _Debva_?”

Bodhi’s cheeks turned red. “I’m sorry, I just always think that—“

Chirrut put his hand up, kindly placing it on his shoulder. “It’s quite alright. I just realized your accent. You’re from Nalhipa aren’t you?”

Bodhi’s ears were pink now. “How do you say it?”

“ _Deipa_.”

 _Deipa_ was an affectionate NiJedhan word for uncle or role model. _Debva_ must be the Nalhipan variant.

“Well, you’re obviously from NiJedha,” Bodhi said, almost defensively. “No one in the Naliba district calls the city ‘Nalhipa.’”

Chirrut nodded. “That’s fair.” Chirrut folded his hands over his knee, looking down toward them and smiling fondly.

“What is it?”

Chirrut sighed. “Ah, nothing. I was just remembering going to Na—Naliba?”

“You’ve been?” Bodhi asked, perking up.

“Oh, so long ago. Probably before you were born.”

“Why?”

"Well, actually,” Chirrut wet his lips, “Baze and I were sent to transport transcribed scrolls of the scriptures to the local temple.”

A stillness settled over the other three, but Chirrut just smiled, a touch sadly, down at his hands. Cassian was trying to get Bodhi to look at him, to tell him to change the subject. This was the first time Chirrut had mentioned Baze aloud.

Bodhi didn’t see Cassian.

“Tell us about it. It must have been fun to travel with your friend, before…”

Chirrut’s smile widened. “Actually, Baze and I weren’t friends. And it definitely was not fun. The Elders wanted to punish us, you see, so they made us walk to Naliba to deliver the scrolls.”

“What! Walk? That must’ve taken—“

“Nearly two weeks,” Chirrut said.

“You and Baze weren’t always friends?” Jyn asked, surprised.

Chirrut laughed, heartily. The other three looked among themselves. “Quite the opposite, in fact. We studied together, but I always outshone him in our physical training, and he always outdid me in studying. He had an advantage, after all,” Chirrut said, tapping his temple near his eyes.

“But why did they punish you two?”

“Well, I was probably twenty-two at the time. He was a year older, and already an initiated Guardian. I was going to be initiated soon, too. I don’t know who started it or why but—essentially we got into a disagreement in the Temple courtyard. By the time they dragged us in front of the Elders, I had a split lip and he had a black eye.”

Baze remembered exactly why they’d gotten into a fight. Chirrut made a snide comment about Baze’s ears and how he was abusing his Guardian privilege to grow his hair out more to cover them. One of Chirrut’s little friends must have told him his hair was growing.

“The Elders said we’d take the scrolls to their destination and get along, or we could leave the Temple.”

“So you became friends on the trip to Naliba?”

“Oh, no, no, no. Baze was so upset that he got in trouble he didn’t speak to me for the first three days. But you remember those caverns that Saw’s men hid out in? They weren’t the first people who thought to hide there. I tried to tell Baze we should avoid them, but that would’ve made the trip so much longer and Baze thought he knew better than me.

“Well, monks and guardians from the Temple always transported valuable goods—at least that’s what the gangsters out there thought. They ambushed us, and they captured me. Of course Baze came and _rescued_ me,” Chirrut said, his tone teasing as if Baze were sitting beside him as he told the tale. “He felt so badly about not listening to me, he got a little friendlier.”

Bodhi was grinning. “Those gangsters were able to catch _you_?”

Chirrut tilted his head and nodded. “My staff wasn’t quite as sturdy then, I suppose. I had never practiced fighting so many people at once. And there’s only so much one can do about a stun blast.”

Chirrut smiled. “Then, when we got into the city, it was so _sunny_ there compared to NiJedha, and I didn’t have a hood unlike Baze, so he bought me some burn ointment and a hood cap for the walk back. Imagine the reaction when I came back, a bit banged up from the run-in with that gang and a huge burn on my neck and a new hat.”

“So you were friends _then_?” Bodhi asked. “After all that adventure?”

Chirrut shrugged. “I became a guardian shortly thereafter, and the elders paired us—I could help with Baze’s physical training and he could help me study the scriptures. It happened somewhere around there.” Chirrut sighed, more nostalgic than sad. Bodhi grinned. Jyn and Cassian exchanged fond looks.

It made Baze glad. 

-

_It doesn’t rain often on Jedha. Just enough to sustain life, Baze supposed._

_He and Chirrut had been practicing a chant, saying it back and forth between the two of them as they sat criss-cross on the ground, knee to knee, when the first roll of thunder came._

_Baze had jumped, sitting up straight. Thirty seconds later, the second roll rumbled through the temple. Baze got to his feet._

_“You aren’t afraid, are you?” Chirrut asked incredulously._

_“No, no,” Baze said absently, moving to the window. It was just beginning to rain the courtyard down below. “I’m going outside.”_

_Chirrut grabbed his staff from the ground beside him as Baze left their quarters. He wasn’t surprised that his friend was following him, but he didn’t pay much mind to him._

_He pulled off his outer robes just before going into the courtyard, folding them and putting them against the sheltered inside wall so they wouldn’t get wet._

_In that short time, puddles had already started to form in the low spots in the courtyard’s stones. Baze paused again to pull off his thin cloth shoes. He placed them beside his robes and ran out into the rain._

_He could see the downpour as it was swept down over the stone in sheets. He splashed his bare feet through the puddles, a superficial chill settling into his feet. He held out his arms, smiling up at the dark gray sky._

_“Baze!” Chirrut called from the edge of the courtyard, having followed Baze down but hesitating at the edge of where the rain fell._

_“Come on, Chirrut! Take off your shoes,” Baze shouted back. The sound of the rain pressed in on him, washing away all other thoughts. Droplets ran freely from his hair, over his forehead and down his chin._

_The cold was exhilarating, and Baze closed his eyes to it, letting it pervade his thoughts and attention._

_He didn’t even notice how Chirrut approached, his cane sweeping the stones in front of him, until he said, “Baze?”_

_Baze looked at him, already soaking wet—the fool hadn’t even taken his robes or his shoes off—yet smiling that wide, toothy smile of his._

_Baze, in lieu of answering, stood in front of Chirrut and framed his wet cheeks with his palms. It didn’t even occur to Baze what he was doing until he saw the surprise in Chirrut’s face._

_He faltered, then. What was he doing? Chirrut tilted his face up, his brows questioning but his lips awaiting._

_Baze felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He stared at Chirrut for a long while. Chirrut’s free hand came up to cup Baze’s elbow._

_Slowly, hesitantly, Baze leaned down to press their noses together. He wasn’t sure if they were ready to go further. He wasn’t sure if he could initiate it._

_Chirrut grinned, and angled his head his head just as many degrees up that he needed to capture Baze’s lips in a chase kiss. His skin was warm even through the rain drops coating his face, and Baze could feel Chirrut’s_ _cheeks heating under his hands._

-

Baze was torn out of the vision quite suddenly. It must have been a dream, he realized. A dream of Chirrut’s. He wondered how that worked, how it felt so real.

It was night time in the familiar barrack dorm room. Chirrut was just shifting in his sleep, yawning. Sleepily, his hand felt the bed in front of him, feeling for something. When he met the edge of the bed, he hummed in surprise, and felt behind him.

Baze’s heart sank. Chirrut had woken up from such a sweet dream, perhaps he forgot that he was alone in his bed. When Chirrut’s hand found the wall, his head snapped up in surprise.

A soft “Oh.” Chirrut clutched at his pillow. Drew in a harsh breath, let it out shakily. Baze sat beside his cot, aching to comfort him, as Chirrut wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always hit me up at tumblr! scream at me! it's alright because i'm already crying!!!!  
> also if there are any flagrant typos/mistakes please lmk i hate proofreading 
> 
> _debva/deipa_ - > uncle or other male role model  
>  _lypiha/lypihan_ (from last chapter) - > unrelated or extended family/brothers


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have changed!! review that!  
> i changed to graphic depictions of violence to be safe!

Chirrut’s hair was graying. The hair near his temples was completely silver these days, with the rest of his head slowly catching up. His cheeks and the corners of his eyes sagged, despite his persistent smile.

Sometimes he still dreamt of Baze. They were never as real as that first time—usually textures and touches and sounds—but he did not weep like he used to.

It was the third _Lydhunan_ season since Baze had died. _Lydhunan_ was week-long celebration of the new year when family would gather and eat and sing songs, catching up on the events of the last year.

Bodhi and Chirrut had kept the occasion private in the last years; often, Jyn and Cassian would have another mission, and the two of them would go back to a room and share some food they had saved up, and Chirrut would teach Bodhi hymns from the Temple.

This year, all four had several of the nights of the week spent on-base, and so Bodhi gathered means for it and stocked them in Chirrut’s room. Bodhi had turned twenty-eight that year, which was an important age for Jedhan men.  Since his birthday he’d let his hair grow down, and it was separated into to pony tails over either of his shoulders.

There wouldn’t be any of the usual pomp and ceremony over Bodhi’s twenty eighth _Lydhunan_ as there would be traditionally, which was a shame, but Bodhi obviously wasn’t deterring him from enjoying the night. 

The bottle of liquor was being passed around those gathered in Chirrut’s small room—the Rogue One crew plus some friends Bodhi invited which included a young Nautolan girl with pale green skin and various other humans wearing the uniforms of Rebel pilots.

Chirrut sat at the head of his own bed while the younger men and women sat on his floor, talking excitedly and slurredly as the night progressed.

Jyn was telling a story. Baze settled into a space beside her to listen. “ _Debva_ fought off like,” she hiccupped, “fifty Stormtroopers and it was _amazing_. Smacking them with his staff like—“ she made some vague, sharp movements with her arms, acting out how Chirrut would swing his staff around.

Cassian nudged in here, added some more absurd details of Chirrut in the field. Baze watched Chirrut as he listened—noted how he kept his eyes closed and just listened, nodding and smiling at the most ludicrous details that they invented.

Baze had a flash of a vision—how different it would be if Baze could sit beside Chirrut and laugh at the stories along with him, put his arm around Chirrut and let him lean against his shoulder. Baze let the flickering idea pass.

- 

Even past when the others left, Bodhi stayed behind in Chirrut’s room. He sat on the ground, back against the side of Chirrut’s bed and took another swig from the bottle of läsk he held loosely in his hand. 

“Happy _Lydhunan,_ _debva_.”

Chirrut reached out and patted Bodhi on his shoulder. “Happy twenty eighth.”

Bodhi swirled the bottle in his hand. The moment dragged. Bodhi craned his head to look up at Chirrut. “What did you do on your twenty eighth?”

Chirrut smiled, slow and toothless, and patted Bodhi again. He faced the wall across from him. “Ah, it was so long ago, I can’t hardly remember.”

“Oh, come on _debva_. It had to have been more memorable than that.”

Chirrut smile grew, revealing his front two teeth. “The Temple always hand a special _sha yial_ meal every night during _Lydhunan,_ and then we shared sweets.” Chirrut shrugged. “Baze and I always went stargazing during _Lydhunan_.” Chirrut sighed a little.

Bodhi furrowed his brow. “Stargazing. Were you not blind when you were younger?” He realized how blunt his question was, then, and added, “I mean,” he put his bottle up in front of his face.

Chirrut laughd. “No, I was born blind. Baze always wanted me to come along, anyway. He’d tell me what constellations were visible and describe them.”

Bodhi looked at him a long while. Baze couldn’t read the look in his eyes. Bodhi took another swig from his bottle and set it down.

“Can I ask you a question _debva_?”

Chirrut’s grin turned teasing. “Haven’t you already?”

Bodhi smiled and rolled his eyes, but still waited for a solid response.

“Go ahead.”

Bodhi looked down suddenly. Away from Chirrut. His hands fiddled in his lap. “You and Baze…” he trailed off, wetting his lips. “You were…”

Chirrut leaned forward, elbow on his knee, looking at Bodhi expectantly. He wasn’t going to let Bodhi infer his question.

Bodhi grabbed the bottle again, passing it between his hands and looking anywhere else. He laughed mirthlessly. “You were together?”

Smile still in place, Chirrut’s eyes softened. “Yes.”

Bodhi looked up at him, eyes wide and jaw a little slack, as if this weren’t the answer he was looking for, before looking back down at his bottle. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his palm into his eye.

“Is that all you wanted to ask?” Chirrut said, a lilt in his voice.

Bodhi bit his lip. “I don’t want to be intrusive…”

“How about you ask me what you want to know, and I’ll decide if it’s intrusive or not?” Chirrut patted the bed beside himself. “Come here, sit next to me.”

Bodhi slid up and sat, mirroring Chirrut with his elbow on his knee and chin on his palm. “Did you uh, did you two keep it secret, then?”

Chirrut chuckled, his eyebrows screwing together and his head cocking to the side. “No, never.”

Bodhi’s eyebrows shot up. “Really, not even in the Temple?”

Chirrut was taken aback, sitting up slowly, but his expression stayed more neutral for Bodhi’s sake. He closed his eyes and considered his response carefully.

“Bodhi,” he began gently. “We never needed to hide anything at the Temple. Love is sacred.” Bodhi stared at Chirrut. Chirrut took a deep breath. “Are you religious, Bodhi?”

Bodhi nodded. “I mean as children we went to the Naliba Temple sometimes.”

Chirrut nodded. “Good. You know that there are two worlds we exist in. Our physical world and the other world. There are things in this world that are important—our actions, and our bodies and who we are-- and concepts that are tied to this world and that are important, like family and marriage. But other things cross over from the other world that are so much more important. Hope and love and other things we can feel but not touch or define. These things should not be hidden. Do you understand?”

Bodhi stared at him wide-eyed. He lowered his eyes and rubbed at them again. “I understand.” Bodhi bit his lip and rubbed his eyes with both hands. “How—“ his voice broke.

Chirrut’s head whipped up at the sound. Bodhi sniffed distinctly, rubbing his palm against his cheeks roughly.

“Bodhi… can I…?” Chirrut trailed off, letting his question be implied. Bodhi nodded and hummed affirmatively.

He pulled Bodhi toward himself so Bodhi’s head could rest on his shoulder. He ran his hand over Bodhi’s head soothingly.

“How long were you together?” Bodhi asked when he regained his voice.

Chirrut smiled fondly. “We were married almost…” he stopped to do the math. “Almost twenty-five years.”

Bodhi swallowed heavily. “Married?” Baze could see the relief in Bodhi’s eyes. “I didn’t know that people like…” Bodhi swallowed the end of his sentence. Chirrut couldn’t see cautious happiness in Bodhi’s face.

“People like what?” Chirrut asked gently. 

Bodhi stumbled. “People like… _us_ ,” he said softly. “I didn’t know marriage was, uh, something that happened.”

“Oh, Bodhi.”

-

_Green robes were customary for these ceremonies._

_They turned Chirrut’s blueish eyes aquamarine._

_Baze focused there, the world and all of the acolytes and monks and guardians watching them melting away. Chirrut held out his hand for Baze’s._

_A patter had started against the side of the Great Hall. Chirrut smiled at him, conspiratorily. “It’s raining.”_

_An Elder tapped the old bell at the front of the Hall with a mallet, the deep rumbling resonating through the room. Chirrut scrunched his nose and grinned broadly, squeezing Baze’s hand. The others in the Hall began to disperse._

_“I love you,” Baze said almost without a thought._

_Chirrut pulled his hand toward himself, reaching out with his other to find Baze’s cheek and kiss him._

_“I love you, too,” Chirrut said against his mouth._

-

Despite losses, the Rebellion was thriving in the fight against the Empire. Their numbers grew daily and more and more benefactors donated resources to their cause.

One day, the Rogue One crew was called to the briefing room, as per usual for a new mission.

“There are rumors that the Empire has begun construction on a new Deathstar.”

The air in the room was stiflingly tense.

“We need Rogue One to locate where we can access plans. The mission is entirely intel gathering. There is a contact willing to meet on Centi. We would usually send a solo agent—Cassian—but the contact does not want to meet with him.”

Chirrut cocked his head. “Who will meet them, then?”

“They’ve agreed to speak to Jyn. We do not know this contact well, but they may know Cassian, so this mission requires backup from Chirrut and Bodhi. The coordinates of the planet and the meeting place have been uploaded to K2’s database.”

“When do we set out?” Bodhi asked.

“Immediately.”

-

Jyn sat beside Chirrut on the way to Centi. Baze wasn’t the only one to notice how quiet and reserved Chirrut was ever since the briefing.

“ _Debva_ ,” Jyn said. The word sounded strange from her, obviously a foreign sound for her to wrap her mouth around. “What are you thinking about?”

Chirrut didn’t respond at once. He wet his lips and sighed a little, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

Jyn watched him. “I’ve been thinking,” she started, “about how much closer destroying the last Death Star got us to the end of the war. It was such a blow to them. We’ve done it before and we can do it again. And it’ll get us that much closer to the end of this.”

Chirrut glanced toward her, a hollow smile. It faltered. “And if we fail, all of this has been for nothing.”

-

The contact was a nervous looking young man, pale with brown eyes that shifted toward the door every few moments. They didn’t approach him immediately, but took up seats in different corners of the cantina, watching. Bodhi sat near the dancers, Jyn by the bar and Chirrut grabbed a small booth in the back, near where the contact sat.

Chirrut heard Jyn approach the man’s booth, say the agreed upon password. He perked up and listened closer.

Chirrut turned his head toward the bar where Jyn had been sitting; he was listening intently.

He stood suddenly and grabbed his staff, making his way through the maze of tables to the bar. Bodhi watched him, his faced schooled into passiveness.

It was suddenly evident what Chirrut sensed—a woman watched him approach the bar, slid past him toward the booth he’d just vacated. She pulled back the side of her cape, revealing a long nosed blaster.

Chirrut stopped in his tracks and swung his staff around behind himself, hitting her square in the temple. But not before she raised her blaster and aimed two shots.

The cantina erupted in chaos. Patrons either fell to the ground to cover or stood, blasters raised. The assassin stumbled to the side, clutching her now-bruised temple before regaining her stance and turning her blaster on Chirrut. He kicked it from her hand. Shocked, the woman spared a moment to peer at Chirrut with wide eyes before vaulting over a cantina table and sprinting to the door.

“Bodhi! Get her to the ship!” Chirrut yelled across the bar. Chirrut bee lined for the exit the assassin just took.

Baze was unable to follow the action, falling into the gray.

-

When he returned, they were on the ship. Chirrut was covered in blood, from his clothes to his hands to his face. Bodhi was beside him, shell shocked. Jyn lay prone across from them, Cassian's hands fumbling over her blaster wound. 

Her breathing rattled against the sides of the ship, grating. 

She grabbed Cassian’s hand, trembling, from where he was gently and efficiently cleaning the deep, black burn. “Cassian,” she said quietly. “My canteen.”

He gritted his teeth but nodded, setting down the sterilizing tools and grabbing the canteen from her bag. He helped her sit up, uncapped it so she could drink.

He wouldn’t do this if he could save her. He would wait until she was bandaged up.

She was going to die.

“Chirrut,” she croaked. Chirrut perked, moving to kneel beside the two.

“I’m here, Jyn.”

She grabbed Chirrut’s hand. Pulled it toward her neck. “Take this,” she said. “The necklace, you should have it.”

“Jyn, I—“

“Shh.” Her face was pale. She turned her eyes up to Cassian, who still held her against his chest, clutching her canteen until his knuckles turned white.

A look passed between them. She moved her hand from Chirrut’s, up to his cheek. Cassian set his jaw, his brows knitting together, shaking ever so slightly.

“Jyn…” Her strength went out, hand falling back to her side. “Jyn,” Cassian repeated. “ _Jyn_.”

She didn’t respond. Her head lulled back against him. 

Bodhi stared wide-eyed at his hands.

“Cassian,” Chirrut started to say, but was cut off by Cassian laying Jyn back down. He put away the medical supplies he’d hastily pulled out and turned to the cockpit without another word.

Chirrut remained kneeling at Jyn’s side. He reached his hand out to feeling her face, slide his palm gently over her eyes to close them and help her rest. He rested that hand over her eyes. His other hand laid over her abdomen and knelt his head over her chest.

Baze did not need to hear him to know he was reciting _kedya_ , the death prayer. It was an ancient Jedhan hymn, recalling the life of the dead in order to ease their soul’s journey from the physical world. Bodhi heard, and was mouthing the words to it in time.

-

_Baze was thirty-four when the Clone Wars ended._

_The Temple fell swiftly, most of the Guardians too shocked to fight back as clones stormed their dormitories and sacred grounds, forcing them onto the street and silencing those who resisted. They struck at night, when no one would see the approach of Republic—now Imperial—Star Destroyers._

_Baze and Chirrut had stolen away that night, carefully making their way down onto the plains of Jedha to gaze at the stars from the wide open spaces. Chirrut had been first to hear the commotion far above them in the Temple._

_They hurried back up the steps to the backdoor of the Temple seated in the cliff face. When they slid back inside, they could only hear the footsteps of troopers and Guardians alike, the blaster sounds and the fall of bodies._

_“Chirrut, come on,” Baze said. His voice betrayed his fear as he tried to pull Chirrut along behind him. They should find someone—anyone, an Elder or another Guardian, find out what was happening. He pulled Chirrut toward another side door, one that would take them into the underground of the city and away from whatever terrible events were taking place in the Temple._

_Chirrut tried to resist him the entire way, pulling back, calling out for anyone from the dormitories. They were all gone already._

_Through the underground passage, they resurfaced in an alley several blocks from the Temple’s front step. Baze held Chirrut close that night, their first of many sleeping on the streets._

_-_

_Baze had awoken alone the next morning, disoriented. He reached out with his senses, trying to feel where Chirrut had gone without him, but he couldn’t. The Force, however weak Baze’s sense of it was to begin with, was silent._

_Baze stood, stretched, patted off dirt that had settled on his robes from the night outdoors._

_Baze walked through the silent streets cautiously, keeping an eye to the corners and to the open doorways he passed. There were no faces. It was eerie, a feeling he wanted to scrub from his skin._

_He came to the courtyard in before of the Temple’s front step. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight. Republic tanks flanked the grand steps, and bodies clothed in black and red Temple robes were unceremoniously dropped every which way. They must have been moved from the Temple, a result of last night’s terror._

_To the far side of the courtyard, men—Jedhan men—were digging a trench._

_Clones stood gathered at the top of the stairs—their colors depicting their status as one Legion. They kept glancing down toward the piles of bodies._

_And there was Chirrut, kneeled among the bodies. Going between each one he found, touching their faces and their abdomens with the gentlest hands, pressing his head to their chests and praying. Baze watched him shuffle on his knees to the next one._

_“Chirrut,” he called, marching over to him with a wary eye on the clones. Chirrut, the fool, didn’t realize how much_ danger _he was causing himself. Any moment, those clones could turn on him, could add him to the number of dead._

_He pulled at Chirrut’s shoulder, pulling him off the corpse of the young monk he was praying for._

_“Chirrut you can’t stay here.”_

_Chirrut swatted at his hands, returning to his position over the girl._

_“Hey!” a modulated voice said. Baze jumped; a clone had approached. He shoved a spade into his hand. “Go start digging.” Baze took it, confused. The trooper pointed to the trench being dug on the other side of the courtyard. “Well?”_

_Baze glanced Chirrut one more time before going and joining the other men._

_-_

_The next order, mandated by the clone in charge, was carrying the bodies to the trench. A mass grave._

_Baze was sick to his stomach, his knees felt like buckling with every step he took. Each time he returned to the pile of bodies, Chirrut was there, kneeling over another one. He was moving quicker, trying to reach each one before they were taken and covered. The Jedhan men realized the importance, the gravity of his prayers and tried to go slower so that Chirrut had time to work._

_“Cover them.” Baze’s hands were blistered as he threw spadeful after spadeful of dirt back over the bodies. His body throbbed with hurt and ache, and he felt sick relief as finally those bodies were out of sight._

_He collapsed beside Chirrut, and neither of them spoke._

_A blaster was fired into the air._

_“Disperse.”_

_They dragged their heavy hearts away._

-

Chirrut sat on his bed. His hands were washed of the blood, but his knuckles were still red and his skin still somewhat dyed by blood. He held the kyber necklace in his hand.

Baze wanted desperately to know what he was thinking. Was he thinking ‘all is as the Force wills it’ or something darker? Was he blaming himself for not moving fast enough, for not being in the right place at the right time, as he had blamed himself for the Temple’s fall for so long. 

Chirrut took a deep breath and released it slowly. He crawled a little further back on his bed so he could cross his legs in front of himself. He closed his eyes, putting his hands on his knees and allowing the crystal to hang over the side of his leg.

Baze took comfort in Chirrut’s meditation. He always had, letting his even breathing lull him into a calm state, even if he had fussed over it in life. Sometimes he regretted how he had goaded Chirrut for his faith, and he was grateful that Chirrut understood him so well.

Chirrut shown brightly through the Force when he meditated, and Baze could see that now. He was drawn closer to him.

The crystal trembled against Chirrut’s knee with Baze’s proximity. Chirrut ignored it. 

Curious, Baze took a closer look at the small crystal. It was very small compared to the crystals he had guarded as a young man. It had the fragment of an original inscription, but had been since refashioned, and leftover letters were nonsense.

Baze remembered the smooth texture of polished kyber, and couldn’t stop from reaching out to touch the shiny surface. It shuddered.

Chirrut’s eyes shot open. He held the crystal up and touched it with his other hand.

An opportunity to reveal himself. Baze touched Chirrut’s knee, willing his other hand to hold the crystal between his fingers and move it slowly against Chirrut’s bruised knuckles.

_It’s me_. _Please, hear me._

Chirrut heaved a sigh, relief and grief warring on his face.

“ _Baze_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _debva_ \-- Naliban word for uncle  
>  _Lydhunan_ \-- festival for the new year and celebration of life. it aligned with the cold season on Jedha. it lasted approximately a week and the Temples would hold special _sha yials_ (see below) every night of this week.  
>  _sha yial_ \-- a communal dinner served in a _sha yial_ hall in the temple. It was entirely free and provided to anyone who showed up, whether they were believers or social outcasts or anyone else. I based this concept off of "langar" in Sikhism. Some other concepts of the Guardian's faith in my writings (as well as the faith of the Jedi, in different ways) is based off what I know about Sikhism.   
> _kedya_ \-- prayer for the dead. (hey maybe the reason why Baze can't go on to the next world is because no one said kedya for him??? idk! who knows!) 
> 
> also!! [Here's Donnie and Wen at around the age that Chirrut and Baze were married](http://vaenire.tumblr.com/post/157515421512/hey) if you're interested.  
> that's also a link to my tumblr ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont even know what to say lol

Bodhi was the only member of Rogue One who participated in the Battle of Endor, flying beside General Calrissian into the the heart of the beast.

Cassian’s skillset hadn’t applied, and he and Chirrut were sidelined during the operation. They sat quietly outside of the war room while reports from Calrissian and Ackbar came through.

Cassian paced, hands clenched behind his back. 

Chirrut ran his thumb over the smooth surface of the kyber crystal hanging at his neck. Even as reports of the Rebel victory started to come in, they remained as tense until Cassian’s comm came to life. Bodhi was safe. 

The Second Death Star, destroyed. The Emperor, dead. Remnants of the Imperial regime fled to the corners of the galaxy. All the three members of Rogue One had left were each other. 

\- 

Again, Chirrut was given the choice to remain with the Rebellion or pursue another life. There were colonies, he was told, that they could relocate him to. He was given time to mull it over. 

There was still a fight to be fought. The last scrambled forces trying to hide, give themselves time to lick their wounds and return.

But, the New Republic was being put in place. A professional military would soon replace the Rebellion.

Chirrut sat on his bed, criss cross. The crystal and its cord sat in his open hand. He’d been practicing attuning himself to feel Baze’s presence through it. The first night when he had sat with it dangling from his hand, he asked Baze if he could move it to the left, to the right, answer questions with such indications.

Baze reached out, letting his energy hum through the crystal. Chirrut grinned, gums visible and corners of his eyes wrinkling. Baze settled his energy across Chirrut’s lap.

When Chirrut knew he was there, touching him did not take as much effort as it had before.

Baze waits for Chirrut to talk, to ask what Baze thinks he should do, but the question never comes. Chirrut continues running his finger over the crystal.

-

Bodhi and Cassian showed up at Chirrut’s door eventually. Cassian held a bottle of something strong and Bodhi held a star map. 

“The war is almost over,” Bodhi said, giddy as he spread the map out on the floor beside Chirrut’s bed.

“There’s still a fight left, though,” Cassian said. He sat criss-cross beside Bodhi and took a swig from the bottle, grimacing at it.

Bodhi gave a passing glance to Cassian as he dragged his finger across the star map, finding planets and moons that had been marked with red. “There are colonies across the galaxy for people displaced. A lot of people are joining the cause, so some rebels are seeing it as an opportunity to go home or go other ways.”

“Some are staying, too,” Cassian added, an edge in his voice suggesting he wasn’t happy with the conversation.

“Are you?” Chirrut asked.

Cassian nodded, “Yes.” He held out the bottle to Chirrut. “Do you want a drink,  _ debva _ ?”

In all the times Baze had offered Chirrut drink in all the times they cooped up the back of a cantina when there were no rooms available, he always declined. This time, he held out his hand and Cassian placed the neck of the bottle against his palm. 

\--

Chirrut thought long and hard about the decision. Even when Bodhi found that there was a settlement in the Yavin system for survivors of Jedha, he was caught between staying with Cassian and going with Bodhi. 

Eventually, his mind was made. At fifty seven years old, Chirrut moved to his new home on Yavin IV. 

Bodhi arrived on the same shuttle, along with his friend Khu. They registered, were assigned their plots in the housing complex, and explored it together. 

Bodhi kept his eyes open wide, eagerly looking for familiar faces and greeting everyone who they came across. Chirrut held onto his elbow, and Khu was never far from his other side. 

Chirrut’s other hand clutched the kyber necklace. He was listening intently. Listening for voices, hoping to hear one he knew; listening to the sounds of the Yavinese wilderness beyond the barracks; listening to the shuttles coming and going from the launch bay nearby; listening to the Force. 

For the first days of the colony, they lived in small makeshift barracks, the youngsters of the colony joining the housing corps to build the infrastructure of the new settlement. Bodhi volunteered his planning experience from the Rebellion, helping to craft outlines and blueprints and surveying the area. Khu worked to build structures, though his work days were shorter as his Nautolan anatomy limited his exertion he could handle in Yavin IV’s atmosphere. 

The colony was organized by family-group type. Chirrut had a small plot on the edge of the colony with a modest home and a large backyard. Bodhi suggested he grow vegetables in it. 

All things considered, Baze thought Chirrut was adjusting to life in the colony quite well. He got up and meditated, tended his little garden, and practiced his forms. The old men and women would stop and watch him, peering over his short garden wall. 

Of course there were those who recognized him, too, as a Guardian of the Whills. Young men would watch him, trying to imitate his forms and his discipline. Older colonists would sit at the edge of his garden as he meditated, and meditate with him. Always from afar. He invited them closer, offered to tell any of his admirers about the philosophies he’d been taught at the Temple. 

He visited the market that was set up once a week in the middle of the settlement. He got to know the trinket sellers and the food vendors. They fawned over him more times than not, and Chirrut was nothing if not an attention seeker. Once, when Bodhi went with him, someone overheard him call Chirrut  _ debva _ and it stuck. Soon, more than half the market vendors would greet Chirrut every week with  _ Hello, debva _ and offer him something to eat. 

Bodhi and Khu visited often. Baze often wondered about them. There were no other Nautolans in this sector of Yavin IV, though Baze figured they had to be  _ somewhere _ .

In any case, Bodhi and Khu would come and help around Chirrut’s home, dusting where Chirrut couldn’t reach and making sure everything was set just right. When Chirrut’s back ached, Bodhi went to the outpost for salves to soothe his muscles. When Chirrut was sick, Bodhi cooked him Naliban foods and nursed him back to health. When Chirrut was talkative, Bodhi and Khu made tea and sat with him. Baze was thankful for them. 

In the days following Chirrut’s realization of Baze’s presence, he had asked many questions. What was it like? Was he alright? Had he seen Jyn? Had he been there the whole time? 

It took so much energy to answer him, but Baze did as much as he could. He wanted Chirrut to know-- it was strange, he was fine, no he hadn’t seen Jyn, yes he’d been here. He’ll always be here. 

But Baze wasn’t there all the time; even if he didn’t notice immediately, he would realize there were gaps in his memory-- suddenly it would be morning three weeks ahead of when Baze thought they were. 

The gray was demanding and it was always pulling at the edge of his vision. So it was inevitable that Chirrut would ask a question and find that he was alone when he received no response. Baze couldn’t stop that from happening, and couldn’t stop it from discouraging Chirrut. 

So Chirrut spoke to him less often to avoid finding out that Baze wasn’t there. 

But Chirrut put on a brave face. Baze told him he’d been there countless nights that Chirrut had cried himself to sleep and he didn’t want to see it anymore. He wanted Chirrut to move on and be happy. 

Chirrut let the kyber crystal hang on the necklace chain off his fist, suspending it over his other palm held facing up, and was asking him questions. Just general ones: “How are you?” “Did you see Bodhi’s hair? He did it differently.” 

They’d made a system back before the colony-- a “yes” was moving the crystal one direction while a “no” was the other direction. 

It was late, so Chirrut did not expect any company. There were no lights on in his little house, just the heater. He sat criss cross on a mat in the middle of the cramped living room, holding the necklace and feeling for Baze’s responses.

The knock on his door jolted Chirrut, and he scrambled to his feet. 

“Chirrut?” the knocker called through the door. “Chirrut, it’s Bodhi.” 

Chirrut was at the door as quick as he could feel his way through the dark. 

“Bodhi, what is it?” Chirrut asked. “Is something wrong?” 

“Chirrut,” Bodhi all but breathed, his voice catching. “ _ Debva _ . Can I come in?” 

Chirrut felt for the light switch next to the door and stepped back for Bodhi to pass by him. 

Bodhi sat on the ground near Chirrut’s mat. He waited for Chirrut to join him. 

“ _ Debva _ ,” Bodhi said, his voice tense and small. Baze could see the wet beginnings of tears at the corners of his eyes. 

“What’s happened, Bodhi?” 

“It’s Cassian.” 

Chirrut closed his eyes and waited for Bodhi to elaborate, although he already knew. 

“A transmission from Chandrila. He--” Bodhi bit it off, blinking furiously. 

Chirrut reached out and found Bodhi’s hand. He squeezed it. 

“We should say  _ kedya _ .” 

Bodhi nodded, humming in agreement even if it was pitched higher from the lump in his throat. 

-

They talked late into the night, sharing tea and swapping stories of Cassian. The Rogue One crew, once being six, four, three and now two, sitting close and pouring each other tea. 

The moon was high overhead when Bodhi excused himself. Chirrut embraced him tightly at the doorstep before saying goodbye. 

He went back inside, taking the tea kettle to the sink to empty it. He stood at the sink for some time, idle, before going to the back door and stepping outside. He sat beside the door, back against the foundation of the house, and stared up into the wide Yavinese sky. 

Softly, he asked, “Are you here?” 

Baze touched the crystal, and it sang with his presence. He settled down beside Chirrut, hoping his presence was felt. 

Chirrut was in his own thoughts, and Baze let him be. 

After some time, Chirrut grabbed the necklace again, playing with the chain absently before suspending it from his fist again. 

“Baze,” he said. “Can you still see the stars?” 

_ Yes _ , he said through the crystal. He wished-- yearned-- for the ability to convey more detailed answers. He wanted to describe them to Chirrut, tell him every difference in the constellations between Yavin IV’s and Jedha’s sky. There were so many new systems they couldn’t see from the temple, and he wanted to take Chirrut’s hand and pointed them at every one of them so Chirrut could measure the breadth of the sky between his fingertips. 

_ Yes, they’re just as beautiful as they’ve always been _ , he wanted to say.  _ Just as you’re just as beautiful as you’ve always been _ . For all the times he yearned for Jedha, none felt as poignant as now. He missed the plains they sat over when they snuck out of the temple to stargaze. He missed the way Chirrut would smile up at the night sky, the moonlight lighting his face. 

But all he could say was  _ yes _ . 

Chirrut smiled, satisfied. 

-

Cassian’s ashes were sent to Bodhi. There was no where else for him to be sent. 

There were others on Yavin IV who knew him, and came to the burial of his ashes. A few pathfinders, a pilot. The settlement had a cemetery already plotted out just beyond the southern border of the housing, and so they were granted a plot there to bury his urn. 

The man who delivered Cassian had described several ways they could intern him, from spreading his ashes to keeping the urn on a mantle in one of their homes. But, Chirrut and Bodhi decided, those were too far or too close. It was best to give sons and daughters back to the soil to rest, but close enough to be within reach of loved ones. 

Chirrut held the urn as Bodhi dug the narrow hole. 

Bodhi took the urn and placed it in, recovering it with the dirt. Bodhi hammered the wooden grave marker into the ground and stood back beside Khu. The others who had come were solemn, placing flowers and other nice items next to the marker. 

They received the others who’d come to mourn Cassian at Bodhi and Khu’s place. The small gathering had food and drink, and plenty of stories about Cassian. Some had known him for many years; the majority had worked with him once or twice, or from a distance. 

When everyone else retired to their own quarters, Khu and Bodhi cleaned up the dishes. Khu shooed Bodhi out to the living room to sit with Chirrut. 

“I wish he would have come with us.” He said it quietly, so it would not echo where Khu could overhear. Just he and Chirrut, and the empty living room. 

Chirrut let his head lean to one side, considering. “He would not have liked it here.” 

Bodhi looked at him long and hard, his breaths slow and controlled, hand tight wrung together. He didn’t want to agree, but he knew Chirrut was right. Cassian had known the bed he made for himself. For Cassian, it would have been more pitiable to live forever on Yavin IV than die in the New Republic’s name. 

“ _ Debva _ ,” Bodhi started, his voice low and tight. “Are you happy here? In KiJedha?” 

KiJedha, the local name for the settlement. Little Jedha. 

Chirrut smiled warmly. Baze could see it was forced, for show. “Are you planning another move?” he teased. 

Bodhi laughed hollowly. 

“I’m fine, Bodhi. I’m grateful to have you-- you and Khu.” 

A small smile pulled at the corner of Bodhi’s mouth, but he pushed it back. “But you’re sad, too.” 

Chirrut’s blue eyes darted about the room unseeingly. “Of course. I still mourn-- all that we’ve lost...” 

“Jedha,” Bodhi interjected. 

“Yes. Yet I know that Jedha and all our loved ones, they live on through us. Our memories and actions are what keeps them with us.” 

Bodhi leaned back in his seat, a dubious and awed look on his face. “ _ Debva _ , you always have such pretty things to say. You believe them?” 

Chirrut’s eyes slid away from Bodhi again, his eyebrows knit together slightly. “Sometimes words are all you have to comfort yourself with.” 

-

Chirrut went and sat in the cemetery some days. 

A stone bench was put in, nearby Cassian’s marker. There weren’t many markers yet as the settlement was young, and eventually the bench and the marker would be far in the back of the cemetery’s plots. For now, there was wide space for Chirrut to sit and meditate away from the prying eyes of his neighbors. 

Chirrut was sitting on the bench when Bodhi found him there one day. 

Bodhi sat beside him silently, not wanting to interrupt his meditation.

Chirrut was just sat and listened; he wasn’t breathing as if he were in meditation, but Bodhi wouldn’t know that. 

“You’re rather tense today, Bodhi.” 

Bodhi jumped a little at Chirrut’s sudden acknowledgement. Baze noticed Chirrut’s observation as well-- while Bodhi was always tense, and quite often full of nervous energy, it was different today. “Well, I don’t usually choose to sit in graveyards.”

Chirrut smiled. He held his staff with both his hands, the bottom of it dug into the ground between his feet. 

“Did you want to tell me something?” 

Bodhi bounced his knee and wet his lips. “I asked Khu to marry me today.” 

Chirrut delayed his reaction for a moment before his head snapped up to look in Bodhi’s direction, face breaking into a bright smile. 

“What did he say?” 

“He said yes,” Bodhi breathed. A smile broke across his face and he grinned up at the sky. “He said yes.” 

Chirrut held out his arm, and Bodhi moved closer for a hug. Chirrut held him tight against his side, grinning. “Congratulations, Bodhi.” 

“There’s another thing,” Bodhi said as they separated again. “We want you to officiate. We already have a law person, but,” he paused, “I want you to officiate us.” 

Chirrut balked. “I’ve never done anything like that.” 

“I want a Jedhan wedding.” 

Chirrut gawked at nothing for a good long moment before standing and holding out his hand. “Can we go to my home?” 

They walked back, Chirrut’s hand on Bodhi’s elbow. Chirrut had Bodhi sit on his bed as he searched his drawers, pulling out his old tattered and patched robes. He felt at the seams, finding the insides and turning it inside out. Near the seam that crossed diagonally down his chest there was a soft, old green patch, about seven inches long and three odd inches wide. He put it on the bed beside Bodhi. 

“This is what’s left of my wedding robes,” Chirrut explained. He hesitated before continuing. “It’s been through a lot. I had to sneak back into the temple to salvage it after Jedha fell. A lot of it was lost in flame, and shreds of it were used to dress wounds over the years. But it was beautiful once.” 

Chirrut reverently traced the outline of the patch with one finger. Chirrut smiled at Bodhi, but the corners of his eyes were tense. Baze remembered Chirrut describing the ear aches he would cause himself when he tried to hold back tears. 

His vision tunneled to only Chirrut, the way his jaw clenched as he kept up his smile, the way he squinted away the wetness in his eyes. 

He was so gray. His hair, his skin, even his smile seemed tinted gray. And then gray was all Baze saw. 

-

“Baze,” Chirrut said. “Did you see the wedding?” 

_ No. _ It was raining outside. 

“Ah.” He was disappointed. “It was really nice. Bodhi cried.” 

Baze wrapped his hand around the crystal, knowing that it would let Chirrut know he was there. He wondered if it warmed up when he touched it. 

-

It took three years for a child to arrive in the Rook family. She was beautiful, only a few months old with short black hair and round cheeks.

Bodhi and Khu, baby cradled and rocking in Bodhi’s arms, brought her to meet her  _ ga’debva _ . 

Chirrut beckoned them in, and Khu grabbed mats for himself and Bodhi while Chirrut sat on his stool. 

The baby cooed, reaching out for Khu. Khu stroked her face gently while Bodhi kneeled up toward Chirrut, reaching out for his hand and bringing it toward the babe’s grasping hands, which closed around his finger. 

Chirrut smiled, eyes soft and the wrinkles set around his mouth growing more stark. “What’s her name?” he asked gently. 

“Klaish,” Bodhi answered. “It means ‘honest’ and ‘upright’ in Naliban.” Chirrut felt her round cheeks, the way they swelled with her smile as she laughed. “It… it was my mother’s name.” 

Khu placed his hand on Bodhi’s lower back and smiled sympathetically. 

“It’s a lovely name.” 

-

It was not uncommon for Baze to see Chirrut babysitting Klaish. An infant was a lot of work, so it was sensible that her fathers would need a break from time to time.

Klaish was getting bigger. Chirrut held her against his chest with both arms as he moved to his bed with a book printed in the sightless alphabet tucked under his elbow. He leaned his back against the wall at the head of his bed, adjusting the bundle of blanket against his chest so he could hold her with one hand and run his fingers over the book with the other. 

Klaish’s little head rested on Chirrut’s shoulder. Her hands had wrested free of the blanket, one laying on his chest near her face and the other closing loosely around the chain of his necklace. 

Chirrut moved his hand, slowly, to run the back of his finger over her cheek.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she Baze?”

-

Soon, she was running around all her own, old enough to run across the colony to  _ ga’debva _ ’s house for tea or to demand he tell her another story, or to sit beside him as he meditated, but too young for the colony’s academy. 

Her long hair was braided tightly, a task that Bodhi took every morning as Khu had no experience with human hair. 

Chirrut leaned heavily on his cane these days. He was strong, but only so much. The years on the streets had taken a toll on his body in the long run, and it was evident now in his old age. 

He sat on his stool to meditate as Klaish played in the garden. She loved to dig in the dirt, feel it between her hands and try to show Chirrut all the bugs she found crawling around in it. Chirrut was never as excited as she was about the slimy creatures she tried to put in his hands. 

She learned that he didn’t generally appreciate being interrupted as he meditated-- not that he would be upset with her; rather because he would be disoriented by being pulled out of his head. She also learned that putting dirt and bugs on his knee counted as interrupting, even if she didn’t  _ say  _ anything to him. 

Instead, when she was done playing, she came and sat beside him, stretching out in the sunlight until he was done. 

Klaish accompanied him to the cemetery as well. It had grown over the years, and Chirrut taught her how to properly respect the graves she passed, careful not to step over headstones or between them and their corresponding footstones. 

When Chirrut sat on the stone bench, she went and patted Cassian’s stone, tracing the Aurebesh inscription with her little fingers. They’d replaced the wooden marker as it began to degrade in the harsh Yavinese environment. Even the stone wouldn’t be permanent, but it lasted longer. 

Whether she could read the inscription or not, she knew plenty about her Cassian  _ debva _ . 

Until recently, Klaish would sit on Chirrut’s lap here and listen to the birds that echoed through the forest, trying to name them for Chirrut. She was too big, now, and Chirrut’s lap was not as strong as it had been. Now she sat beside him, threading her arms through his and holding his hands. 

Baze sat in the window of Chirrut’s kitchen where he could see Klaish playing in the garden, seeming determined to fill her braids with dirt, and Chirrut where he washed fruits in the basin for a snack. He squatted to pick up the basin and throw the water out the door. 

He was just to the threshold of the back door when suddenly he dropped the basin, water splashing across the wooden floor, and fell to the ground with a sick, loud crash. Baze’s consciousness flashed bright white, something similar to adrenaline blurring his vision.

“ _ Ga’debva _ ?” Klaish called from outside. “ _ Ga’debva _ , what happened?” 

Chirrut groaned, face white and crumpled in pain. His breathing was tense even as Baze recognized the patterns of his breathing regulation exercises. Baze dare not look harder or the blurry vision would threaten to take over. 

“Klaish,” he croaked, voice weak and strained. She appeared in the doorway, horror on her face. “Klaish,” he gulped. “Go get your father.” 

-

_ Chirrut liked to show off.  _

_ He liked to show off by doing flips and kicks and beating anyone who challenged him to spar. He showed off by climbing up stone walls where no one should be able to get and walking on his hands to make the little acolytes giggle.  _

_ He liked to do handstands on the short walls between the floors of the temple and the steep fall down the cliff of NiJedha.  _

_ Baze was sure that half of his pleasure from all this came from Baze’s reactions.  _

_ Baze would grumble when Chirrut pulled off some complex flip, and when Chirrut beat him on the sparring floor. He would call for Chirrut to get down, his suppressed panic still audible in the edge of his voice. He would tell Chirrut he was much too old to pull such childish tricks. A Guardian, after all, should be an example to all.  _

_ But the real panic came out in Baze’s protests and scoldings when Chirrut showed off by standing on his hands atop the short wall at the edge of the roof overlooking the plains surrounding Jedha City. _

_ “Chirrut,” he said, peaking one eye open. He was trying to meditate in the later afternoon when the sun was low in the sky, but Chirrut was casting shadows across him as he edged along on his hands. “You really should get down from there.”  _

_ “Why?” Chirrut asked cheekily.  _

_ “If you fall, you’ll die.”  _

_ “Aw,” Chirrut said. “You’re so sweet. So concerned for me.”  _

_ “I’m serious, Chirrut,”  _

_ At that moment, Chirrut’s hand slipped and his legs wobbled in the air.  _

_ “Chirrut!” Baze flew to his feet as Chirrut fell, luckily back onto the roof instead of down the high cliff on the other side. The air was punched out of his lungs, and Baze scrambled over to him. “Are you okay?”  _

_ “Baze…” he groaned. Then his face eyes widened, breath hitching. “Oh god, Baze,” he said breathlessly, voice full of panic.  _

_ “Wh-what is it? Are you hurt? I  _ told _ you, idiot. What hurts?”  _

_ “I- I,” Chirrut started. “I can’t see. Oh god, I think I’m blind.”  _

_ Baze’s face fell blank.  _

_ “I hate you.”  _

_ Chirrut burst out laughing, shielding his mouth behind his hand and rolling back and forth in his mirth.  _

-

Chirrut’s hip had shattered. The settlers of KiJedha, who adored and respected Chirrut to no end, pitched in to pay for a durasteel hip replacement. 

Together, Bodhi and Khu decided and insisted on Chirrut moving to live with them. 

Chirrut had taken to napping in the early afternoon. His bones creaked, and he felt weather changes in his hip.

Bodhi watched over him carefully. He and Khu added a ramp beside the front doorsteps to make it easier for him, and even Klaish, now six years old, helped guide Chirrut around the house. 

The weather, starkly different from Jedha, affected him more and more as he got older. It was hot and the sun was harsh when Chirrut wore lighter clothes. The humidity got in his lungs and made it difficult to breathe on particularly moist days. 

-

_ “Many great Guardians have died protecting the crystals. I think that’s how I will, too.”  _

_ “Really?” Chirrut asked. They were lying on the floor of Baze’s room, hands intertwined. “I should’ve guessed you’d die in defense of the Temple.”  _

_ Baze made his free hand into a fist, putting it over his chest. “Of course. I can’t imagining going any other way than on my feet. What about you?”  _

_ Chirrut hummed, stroking his thumb over the side of Baze’s hand. “I don’t know.”  _

_ “You’ve never thought about it?”  _

_ Chirrut shrugged. “I think it’s weird that you have.”  _

_ Baze let that sit for a moment, feeling self conscious. “I guess I’ve always thought about it.”  _

_ Chirrut frowned. “I don’t like to.” He shrugged.  _

_ “Are you afraid?” The air was thick and hushed.  _

_ “Aren’t you?” Chirrut countered quietly.  _

_ Baze shrugged. “All is as the Force wills it.”  _

\- 

At seventy one, nineteen years after the Battle of Scarif, Chirrut was bedridden with a cough that just wouldn’t go away. He’d been, needing to rest as he spoke for weeks. Chirrut didn’t need to hear what Baze heard the doctor tell Bodhi in order to know it was nearly time. 

“Klaish, honey, don’t you think it’s time for bed?” Chirrut asked. His breathing was slow, subduing his words.

The girl, standing a foot or so from the bedside with Khu’s hand on her shoulder, shook her head violently. Her face was scrunched up, trying to hold back tears. “I’m not tired,  _ ga’debva _ .”

Chirrut heard the tightness in her voice and knit his brows together. He lifted his hand from his side and beckoned her over. She sat on the edge of his bed and held his hand. Bodhi watched from his seat near the head of Chirrut’s bed. Bodhi’s eyes were red and his face pale.

“Now, don’t you remember what I told you?” Chirrut’s voice was soft and calm, but there was an edge of fatigue that Baze was unfamiliar with. It was unnerving. There was usual tiredness and ache that came from their life together, and then there was this.

Klaish pouted, and one fat tear rolled down her face. “No, I don’t remember.”

Chirrut gave her a weak, toothy smile and ran his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the tear. “I’m still here,” he said. “There’s no need to cry.”

She bit her bottom lip and grimaced. “I’m sorry,  _ ga’debva _ .”

“Shh, shh. Don’t be sorry.” He breathed in and out, the air whistling before he coughed. “Just remember what I tell you now.”

“I will, I promise,” she said.

“When you can’t see me, trust I’m still here. Remember what I’ve taught you.” He patted her cheek. “Look to the Force.”

He stopped, inhaling deeply to catch his breath.

“Klaish, let’s get you to bed.  _ Debva _ needs to rest,” Khu said gently, laying his hand on her shoulder once again. 

She looked at Bodhi, who nodded, before sliding off the bed. She thought better, leaning back over Chirrut to kiss his forehead and whisper “I love you _ ga’debva _ ,” before taking Khu’s hand and following him into the hall.  

Bodhi watched them go before rubbing at his already red eyes. Chirrut looked at him, flipping the hand at his side to face palm up. Bodhi scooted in closer, grabbing his hand.

“Thank you for-- for  _ everything _ Chirrut.” His voice hitched. 

“Thank  _ you _ ,” Chirrut rebuked. 

Bodhi sniffed, nodding. He swallowed heavily. 

“Are you afraid, Bodhi?” 

“What?” Bodhi said, eyebrows pinching. 

Chirrut gave a small smile-- one that, despite its frailty, reached his eyes. There was a depth of sorrow, but also that twinkle Chirrut got whenever he was going to lecture someone. Baze knew it well. Even at a time like this, Chirrut would have some speech to impart. 

He squeezed Bodhi’s hand. “I have no fear of death, Bodhi. Understand this. I do not fear death, for all is as it will be.” 

Chirrut took another shaky breath. Bodhi smiled weakly. Chirrut brought his trembling hand to his chest and patted where the crystal must lay on his collar.

“Have it,” he said. “One day, perhaps give it to Klaish.”

Bodhi stumbled to respond. “I…. That’s Jyn’s.”

“Those lost,” Chirrut said, voice rattling, “Live on through us.” 

Bodhi nodded, humming so Chirrut knew. 

“I’m going to miss you,  _ debva _ .”

Chirrut smiled faintly. “Don’t miss me too much,” he paused for a soft, gasping breath. “I am never far.” He smiled wryly, to himself more than anything. “Besides, I have someone waiting for me.”

Chirrut’s hand shook as he squeezed Bodhi’s again. His chest rattled, tense as he pulled in his breaths that threatened to turn into coughs. 

Bodhi leaned over him, pressing a kiss to Chirrut’s forehead. Chirrut’s eyes closed, face peaceful aside from the strain in his brows as he struggled to bring in his breaths. 

“Bodhi,” he started again, voice rasping. 

“Yes?” Bodhi asked after a moment of silence. 

“Please,” he said, softly so that Bodhi had to lean in to hear him. “Put Baze’s name next to mine.” 

“Of course  _ debva _ , of course.” Bodhi was choked up, moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes. 

Chirrut’s chest rose slower, less visible, his hand slowly going slack in Bodhi’s. 

“Pray with me,” Chirrut breathed. 

Bodhi nodded, scooting in closer to bow his head beside Chirrut’s. They recited that old, familiar mantra quietly. Chirrut’s voice was soft and fading, but even after he fell silent his lips continued to move. 

After a moment, Bodhi reached his hand out to feel the air beneath Chirrut’s nose, then rest on the side of his neck. Bodhi wet his dry lips, blinking furiously before he took a deep, shaking breath and squeezed Chirrut’s hand. He bowed his head over Chirrut’s hand and stayed there, motionless, for a long, long moment. 

With eyes still squeezed shut, he extracted his hands from Chirrut’s and laid one over Chirrut’s eyes, the other over his abdomen, and bowed his head over his chest, reciting that familiar prayer and releasing Chirrut’s spirit to the next world. 

Gray pulled at him, and Baze welcomed it.

-

But Chirrut was not in the gray. 

It was as vast and empty as it had been before, not another soul in sight. 

Baze paced, reasoning that if he went far enough he’d have to end up wherever Chirrut had gone, just as in life. The gray, however, was unyielding in its emptiness. 

Baze was pulled back into the world, forced to passively watch the funeral rites. Chirrut was cremated and a craftsman in KiJedha created a traditional fiber urn for him. A stone carver was commissioned to to create the plaque.

Khu and Bodhi cleared a plot just beyond the cemetery, beyond where Cassian was, beyond the stone bench.

Unlike Cassian’s rites, no one else joined them. Jedhans were buried by family, not friends. 

Bodhi dug the hole, Khu pulling plants and vines away from the plot’s edge. Klaish watched from the stone bench, hand on Chirrut’s urn beside her. All three of them looked mournful, and none of them spoke; none of them wept, either. 

Khu helped Bodhi lower the urn carefully into the hole, taking his turn to fill the hole back in. Together, they planted the plaque securely into the ground. 

Bodhi kneeled before the plaque, beckoning Klaish to kneel beside him. Khu gave them space, sitting on the bench and watching from afar as they bowed. Baze settled in the air between Bodhi and Klaish, staring at his own name inscribed on the stone plaque. It was surreal. He listened to the  _ kedya,  _ appreciating how Bodhi took the time to specialize its lines to be about Chirrut. They honored him, recalling his bravery and abilities, and the way he always had something to say-- something wise or something joking. 

But Baze’s heart could only appreciate so much. When he had died, he was separated from Chirrut-- but impermanently. He could always visit in the physical world. For some reason he was put there in the limbo between living and dying, given the ability to straddle the two worlds. 

Chirrut was gone now, though, and Baze was left behind, somehow anchored to this cold, gray in between. 

Bodhi and Klaish sat back when their  _ kedya  _ finished and sat in silence, considering the plaque. Bodhi blinked furiously down at his hands, but Klaish stared intently at the inscriptions. She’d started the academy a few years ago, and had began to read books at home. 

“We should say one for Baze  _ ga’debva _ , too,” she said. Baze perked, caught off guard by the mention of his name. By being referred to as  _ ga’debva _ . 

Bodhi peered at her silently. She returned his gaze, a curious and steady look. 

“You’re right,” Bodhi said. They bowed once more. 

He knew  they were speaking, could see their lips moving, but suddenly a third world was crawling into his consciousness-- the orange plains and inky black skies of Jedha spread out below the Temple and his life there, his rivalry and his love with Chirrut, the years spent chasing blood money and trying to pay for a room over night so Chirrut wouldn’t be left in the cold, all the times he followed Chirrut into fights they should not have walked away from. The horror of their last shared day-- the moment he realized what had happened to their beloved city, the moment he realized that Chirrut was striding right into the face of his own death. 

The memory of his fiery, fiery death, bringing heat back into his long cold consciousness. 

His vision blotted out again for maybe the thousandth time, but it was different. In place of the solemn and unforgiving gray, there was yellow. It was soft, accepting, and it filled Baze’s awareness until he felt it from the inside out. 

“Baze?” 

He turned about himself, unable to locate where Chirrut’s voice came from. He squinted against the yellow until Chirrut’s hand caught his elbow. 

“There you are, Baze,” Chirrut said. 

Chirrut was full of the yellow, too, and Baze could feel it passing between them where Chirrut’s hand held his arm. 

Baze couldn’t decipher for the life of him whether Chirrut looked young, like he did as a monk, or old, as he did on Yavin IV. Baze couldn’t decipher whether he was seeing Chirrut or if he was  _ feeling _ him, through some other sense he didn’t understand. Chirrut’s other hand came up and cupped Baze’s face, and Baze felt that Chirrut was seeing  _ him _ through the same unknown sense, somehow.

“I missed you,” Baze croaked. “ _ Force _ , Chirrut, I missed you.” 

Chirrut smiled, though his eyes narrowed, and surely at another time Baze would be called out on swearing on the Force after swearing off his faith for so long. But Chirrut just smiled, familiar in a way that made Baze ache for all the years they spent apart. 

The sweet yellow flowed between them, pulsing around them. 

Finally, Chirrut leaned up and kissed him. All other thoughts disappeared. 

The warmth and the yellow closed in, surrounding them, and he welcomed it. The two of them were finally the only one in the galaxy. 

Finally, the distinction between the yellow inside of him and inside of Chirrut fell away: Chirrut was all there was in the world, and all there was coloring the yellow that filled Baze’s soul. 

_ Finally, finally, finally _ . 

There was nothing left to him but Chirrut. Nothing but the yellow. Nothing but the two of them floating away, melding. 

In death as in life, they were one, finally. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ga'debva_ \-- like a great uncle type?  
>  _kedya_ \-- death prayer ! 
> 
> thank you very much for reading, please leave a comment!  
> also please let me know if any of this translates to complete nonsense i've been staring at it for so long 
> 
> tune in next time for more pain <3

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on[ tumblr](http://vaenire.tumblr.com/) :)


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